


Power Play

by cyanideinsomnia



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bondage and Discipline, Broken Bones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Hypnotism, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, No Aftercare, Physical Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Sadism, Situational Humiliation, Size Difference, Submissive Lucio (The Arcana), The Devil is Not Nice, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting, literal choking on the dick, pointless goat torment, really bad aftercare, return of hypno hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: He heard himself whimper, a pathetic little noise that seemed to bring a light of sadistic amusement to cold crimson eyes.“You’ll take whatever I give you and you’ll like it. You have no choice.”
Relationships: The Devil/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	Power Play

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea where this is in the timeline, i just wanted to explore Throne Blowjobs and it got mean
> 
> devil's tail from the edit by Savenkey: https://66.media.tumblr.com/47a3d08b4bcfbec5c9fd45db58d3d56d/tumblr_pxc0mjKeql1wb4gslo3_r1_1280.png
> 
> hypno hands referenced from here (from the outside but still): https://archiveofourown.org/works/21603712

"On your knees."

For a brief, fleeting moment, Lucio hesitated. The command was in the wrong voice, the wrong Palace, a corruption of a private ritual with his wife. 

Yet he felt compelled, dropping to the polished obsidian floor at the Devil's feet as though his legs could no longer support his weight, a twinge of pain that faded into numbness heralding equally obsidian bruises sure to form on unprotected pale knees. He couldn't remember when he'd stripped naked - maybe he'd come here already nude. 

Suffocating red heat lapped at his skin like distant flames, the too familiar weight of red, burning chain cinched around his throat, warm red fog seeping into his mind like blood. The chain tugged him closer until he was kneeling more directly between the beast's haunches lazily outstretched on his throne, one broad hand coming down to rest against his cheek, a jagged grin forming on the elegant snout as he immediately leaned into it as though it held any compassion.

"You disgust me," His captor chuckled, not a hint of malice in his tone - rather something like perverse adoration. "You embody my archetype so completely, a beautiful little contradiction. So repulsive, absolutely sickening. Just  _ look _ at you."

His thumb brushed across Lucio's lips in a rough stroke, and it pressed inside his mouth when those lips automatically parted, taking away any chance of argument. His tongue slowly lapped against and curled around the invading digit, starting to suck on it as if compelled, keeping his gaze warily focused on his master's face. He tasted like smoke and blood.

"And yet, I must confess, you.. instill some kind of  _ feeling  _ in me. I  _ want _ you." The Devil's voice dropped into a low growl, snout twisted in a snarl, his thumb suddenly clamping down on his tongue mid-suck, prying his jaw open as if threatening to tear it off. "I hate that. I hate everything about you. You're nothing but a parasite, feeding off your betters. A pathetic scrap of a mortal being, hardly worth my time or effort, and you know it, don't you?"

The hand against his jaw jerked him further forward, a sharp flare of pain pulsing through his cheek where his thumb dug its claw into sensitive flesh. A long black cock was steadily emerging from the white fluff between his haunches, right next to his face, its heat pressed against him, its presence almost as suffocating and oppressive as its owner's. 

Its presence also easily diverted his attention away from his words, rolling over his consciousness like water off a duck’s back. He’d heard this sort of thing many times before, in many different words by many different mouths - and yet, here he was again, clearly worth occupying _some_ of his precious time. 

"You want me to hurt you, don't you? You want me to break you.  _ Use _ you. Any attention is good attention for you, isn't it?"

Onyx claws slowly stroked along his hair, surprisingly gentle, his jaw twinging as he attempted to arch into the softer touch, shuddering with something like relief beneath his hand. 

As if waiting for him to make that move, those claws immediately plunged into his scalp, grabbing a fistful of gold and yanking his head back, his leash thumping against his breastbone. He heard himself whimper, a pathetic little noise that seemed to bring a light of sadistic amusement to cold crimson eyes.

“You’ll take whatever I give you and you’ll like it. You have no choice.”

Despite the red agony thrumming through his skull, his flesh hand reached up to tentatively stroke the large cock - only to have the hand previously pulling open his jaw move to grab it in a crushing vice grip before trembling fingers could make contact, another pathetic noise escaping his throat as he felt more than heard a sickening little  _ pop _ . 

He distantly hoped it wasn't broken, he couldn't exactly commission a replacement for  _ that  _ one.

"Tsk, don't touch me until I  _ say  _ you can touch me, you impudent little cockroach." The Devil huffed.

Another dizzying shift of treatment as the beast leaned forward, pulling his captured hand up to meet his snout, pressing a gentle kiss against the palm. The warmth of magic curled around his hand from the kiss outwards, dulling the pain, the odd feeling of bones being stitched together indicating that it  _ had  _ been broken. 

Without warning more burning chains burst from the floor next to him, wrapping around both wrists and roughly pulling them down to his knees, making sure he wasn't foolish enough to try again.

It was freeing, in a way. Now he didn’t have to figure out what to do with them.

The grip on his scalp tightened, the warmth of blood slowly beginning to trickle down his neck, pulling him further up on his aching knees until his face was pressed directly against his master's cock. Once again he hesitated, breath quick against the thick shaft, not daring to even attempt to taste it, uncertain eyes flickering back up to the elegant snout, waiting for a command. 

He didn't want him to break his face like his hand. He still might break it anyway for his hesitance.

Another low chuckle, reverberating through the cock. "Ah, so you  _ can _ be taught. Suck it."

“I don’t think it’ll fit.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, instinctively tensing up for some kind of retribution.

“I didn’t ask you to  _ speak _ , I told you to  _ suck _ .” The Devil growled, flashing sharp teeth in a warning snarl. “I can’t stand the sound of your voice.”

Lucio hesitantly leaned forward, at least as much as the grip in his hair allowed, slowly lathing his tongue along the obsidian surface, almost reverently, tracing every vein and curve he could reach. Drinking in the taste of him while he still had the privilege to do so on his own, smoke and blood and something else he would never be able to identify, burning against his tongue but not painful. 

For the moment, his captor seemed content to allow him to work his way along the shaft, though it wasn’t strictly sucking, a hungry gleam in crimson eyes. He could see that aforementioned  _ wanting  _ plain on his monstrous face, predatory arousal laid bare like any mortal being the Count had pleasured before.

Despite the chain cinched tight around his neck and the claws buried in his scalp, for a brief moment, he felt like  _ he _ was the one in control here.

He chanced a rake of his teeth along the shaft on the way up to the head, relishing in the surprised grunt and barely constrained twitch of furred hips, almost hard enough to knock him back to the floor. The dark tail draped along one arm of his throne began to impatiently lash, a subtle warning to  _ get on with it _ while its owner was too focused on watching his prey for a verbal command. 

Any further tricks would likely end in him swallowing his own teeth, so he simply wrapped his lips around the tip of his master’s cock, slowly easing the head into his mouth and finding it a bit more of a struggle without the mobility of his hands or the unwanted  _ assistance  _ of thick fingers prying his jaws.

Those fingers shifted their grip against his scalp, moving down to brace against the back of his neck, his only warning before he was  _ slammed _ down onto the cock, forcing more of its length down his throat, its girth instantly cutting off his air and crushing his skin against the chain cinched around his neck. He gagged and instinctively jerked against it, feeling things tearing inside and out, breath he couldn’t spare expended on a strangled cry.

“I hate the sound of your voice - and yet, I  _ love  _ to hear you suffer. You see my problem, don’t you?” The Devil hummed, grip remaining firm against his neck as he continued to suffocate, vision beginning to darken. “... you  _ are _ aware you have no need for air in these realms?”

A pathetic little gurgle was all he could muster in response.

Distantly he felt the chain around his neck loosening, though not drawing away, and as that pressure lifted warm air poured into his lungs, forcing him to breathe in shuddering gasps despite the massive cock shoved down his throat. The pain hadn’t subsided in the slightest, and in fact he was more keenly aware of it now that his consciousness was no longer slipping.

“You would be even more useless to me if I killed you, remember that.”

He shivered against the cock as both sets of rough fingers slowly, almost casually slid down to anchor at the back of his neck, thumbs gently stroking his distended throat before bracing against his cheeks. Holding his head in place, as if it could go anywhere, while large hips just as casually began to shift into position against him, taking his time. 

His eyes squeezed shut, feeling his throat muscles painfully tighten in a useless attempt to swallow, something like a whimper caught in his chest, uneasy breaths quickening the longer they simply remained joined without moving, body trembling in the Devil’s grip.

It was almost a macabre sort of relief when the cock finally slammed the rest of the way into him, a renewed bolt of agony surging through him followed shortly by an unsettling numbness, like being punched in the spine. He distantly felt something inside him rupture, the warmth of blood or magic or both flooding his mouth and throat as the cock slid back, the pain dulling for a moment before searing through him tenfold as it plowed forward once more.

Another punch in the spine, another rupturing, another flood of warmth, a pattern that quickened as the Devil established his pace. Pain and numbness spread from his throat into the rest of his body, surging and subsiding with each thrust - he was breaking him and healing him, back and forth, forcing him to experience the same level of pain as the first attack every time. Like swallowing a hot poker, over and over and over, distantly wondering if he’d let him go if he passed out from the pain.

After all, you can’t assert your power over someone that wouldn’t be able to know you were doing it. 

The healing was as much part of that power as the breaking, making sure he knew he could do this for a very long time, and all he could do was sit there and take it, the chill of tears at odds with the inferno in his throat, making each thrust more painful with his sobs and yet unable to stop. The emotional display wouldn’t even help him. He hated it.

Punishing thrusts paused for a moment as he felt the Devil shift position again, his grip dropping back to one hand buried in his scalp, the scrape of hoof on obsidian indicating one of his legs coming further out, supporting more of his weight.

A sudden warm pressure between his legs told him where the other leg had gone, top of his foot deliberately pressed up against his cock, and it began to bounce him as the thrusts resumed, a dizzying mix of pain and pleasure thrumming through his body, albeit a mix that favored pain. Instinctively he bucked his hips against it, desperately grinding against the fur to tip the balance between them, unconsciously following his captor’s rhythm.

His thighs clamped down on it as it began to lift him, knees hanging off the floor while his hands remained chained to it, straining against those chains to try to hold onto the leg so it would be much easier to hump it like the horny dog his master clearly expected him to be. The chains loosened, but only just enough that he could curl his fingers into the fur of his foot, holding it closer to his aching cock.

If he could get off first, this -- well, it wouldn’t be worth it, but it would be a small victory in a losing battle. He held stubbornly to that idea as he ground down harder and faster against the Devil’s leg, his panting beginning to outpace the magical air forcing itself into his lungs around the cock tearing apart his throat.

Without warning he was jerked forward again, lips buried in fur and the cock buried all the way inside him, held firm by the hand against his neck as a burst of hot fluid poured down his aching throat, pooling directly into his gut, flooding him, filling him. Gathering inside him like molten lead in the pit of his stomach, a heavy, disgusting weight, the heat of it seeping through his skin and burning against his thighs and cock.

He coughed and gagged and jerked against the cock, and this time he was allowed to slip free, unceremoniously dropped to the floor on his hands and knees. He distantly noted his hands were unchained before the flood of cum surged in the other direction, splattering against obsidian in a sickening white torrent.

There was just so much. Too much. He had to get it out. It hurt coming out, far more than it did going in, but he couldn’t stand feeling so grotesquely  _ full _ . The acrid smell of it burning away from the floor encouraged more to escape, until the sizzling pools were more clear than white before they dissipated.

Cruel laughter rang in his ears, cutting through the last painful retches. “Was that too much? I have no frame of reference for these things, you know.”

Despite the blur of tears in his eyes, the burn of cum and blood lingering in his throat and drooling down his heaving chest, and the lancing agony in every inch of his skin, Lucio very slowly lifted his head to focus a withering glare at the general direction of the sound. 

It only encouraged louder laughter.

He felt a light tug on his leash and blindly followed to save his neck further grief, warm hands against his aching skin effortlessly lifting him upwards onto a warmer furred thigh. One hand then settled comfortably on his own hip, the other lazily brushing sweat-drenched strands of hair from his face, heedless of his pained flinch.

“I don’t know why you insist on hiding behind a facade of perfection when you’re most perfect like  _ this _ ,” His captor purred, a blur of sharp teeth indicating another jagged grin. “Raw, vulnerable, powerless - and most importantly,  _ silent _ .”

Against his better judgment, the Count attempted to argue against that last point, only to prove it with a wheezing croak that ran through his raw throat like swallowing gravel.

"See? Perfect."

He could feel the heat of the massive cock against his thigh, still hard and wet, unconstrained by the rules of biology. He had a feeling he wasn't done with him yet, a shudder of something between fear and anticipation rolling through his aching body, thighs unconsciously twining around the thick white haunch pressed between them. It would likely hurt as much as it did on the other end, and yet..

The hand at his hip lazily drifted over to stroke along his own cock, reminding him it was also hard and in dire need of attention. He automatically pressed into it with a broken little gasp that may have started life as a whine, once again digging his fingers into the thick white fur of his master's leg, shaking with the effort to hold himself back from grinding against the hand as well.

“I suppose you think you’ve earned some gratification,” The Devil mused, and all he could do was desperately jerk his head in a nod, another shaky rasp of a sound escaping his destroyed throat in lieu of a plea. "How presumptuous."

His tone implied coming pain, but the broad hand stroking along his hair once more was gentle, slow and leisurely, like petting one of his own dogs. 

It was oddly mesmerizing, distracting him from the arguably more important hand between his legs, and as he tentatively pressed up into it, Lucio felt a flood of warmth beginning to spread through his body, strengthening with each stroke, relaxing tensed and aching muscles, dulling the agony in his throat. Every inch of him was on fire, like before, but a  _ pleasing  _ kind of sensitivity, each touch burning away what was left of his resolve.

For a moment he struggled to remember where he was, or why he felt this good, his head lolling back against the hand now stroking along his neck. He closed his eyes, and when they opened again he found himself positioning himself above the monstrous cock, still trying to lean into the extra warm pressure against his neck and finding the hand had long since moved, bracing against his hips as he slowly slid down the shaft like slipping into a warm bath.

He could feel it stretching him, far enough he knew it should hurt - and yet there was no pain, only more of that enthralling ecstasy thrumming up through his body, allowing, no, compelling him to finish sliding down to the base, until his hips pressed against fur and he could feel the cock pressing up against his freshly emptied guts.

A blur of white and red as he felt his consciousness slip again, drawn further under by that feeling of being completely filled, attempting to ground himself with his own hands coming down to brace against the larger ones gripping his hips, immediately distracted by the size and blackness of them as he lifted one to his face to examine it. For the moment the Devil didn’t move, hips or hand, only watched him flounder for his bearings under his thrall, clearly amused.

His golden hand curled around the larger onyx one, holding onto it for stability or maybe something much more foolish as he slowly lowered himself onto his back, lying along his master’s thighs, his own shaking thighs coming up to loosely fasten around his waist, still diligently holding the cock inside him but otherwise completely prone and relaxed. His leash remained slack, chain resting at his side, as if his captor anticipated this.

“Oh, you want me to do all the work again?” 

Though he knew his head was somewhere further up, his voice sounded like it was right against his ear, or maybe inside his mind. His tone was once again that of perverse adoration, only too pleased by his submission. He found he liked that tone.

“.. please.” The Count breathed, his own voice miles away.

He couldn't move any further even if he wanted to, body heavy and weightless at once, like he was drifting along in slowly boiling soup. Something inside him was still telling him to try to escape the pot.. but it felt so good, and he'd earned it, hadn't he?

The hand slid out of his grip in order to stroke along his prone body, meandering down to brush against his cock before gripping his hips once more. “Good. Very good. You're finally learning your place.”

Lucio let his arms and head drop against the throne with a soft sigh of relief, eyes closed as he felt the larger hips begin to shift into position against him.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to patreon, follow me there for $3/mo and validate my decision to add writing to it: patreon.com/cyanideinsomnia


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